Scenes from an Italian Restaurant
by Lady Emily
Summary: Nancy and Frank have a bit of a situation. A hostage situation.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Nothing is mine; this story is purely written for fun and not profit.

A/N: Warnings for a little bit of bad language and violence. And yes, I lifted the premise of this one _directly_ from an episode of the best cop show ever. Enjoy!

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Rain was starting to fall as Nancy Drew stepped out of her cab in the yellow light of the corner streetlamp, and she looked up into the dark sky with annoyance. It had been a long day at the criminology conference and she was exhausted. The weather was miserable. And to top it all off, if she was completely honest with herself, she was nervous. The idea of being nervous about meeting a good friend for a completely casual dinner made her feel silly and insecure, two things she hated feeling, which only darkened her mood.

After paying the driver, she hurried across the street, keeping her coat clutched tightly around her against the cold and damp. Her destination, a little Italian restaurant, beckoned with the delicious smells of cooking food. The place seemed to give off a warm, homey glow, light pouring out through the large plate glass window in front that read _Dante's Place_.

Pausing under the red and white striped awning, she peered into the restaurant and immediately spotted Frank Hardy seated at a table near the front. A smile rose to her face unbidden and she felt her spirits lifting despite herself... even if the nerves did persist in the form of a fluttery feeling in the general vicinity of her stomach. He hadn't seen her yet, and she gave herself five seconds to get collected before she reached out and tapped on the glass with one fingernail to attract his attention. Their eyes met and he answered her grin with one of his own.

Exhaustion forgotten, there was even a bit of a spring in her step as she entered the restaurant, nodding to the waitress as she passed on the way to Frank's table. Frank had gotten to his feet, and they hugged without hesitation.

As she stepped back, Nancy took a good look at him. Though they talked on the phone often, it had been far too long—almost four years—since they'd met face-to-face. He was just as she remembered him though—same dark hair, same warm, intelligent eyes, as handsome as ever. Maybe even moreso, as the planes of his face, his jaw were a little more defined than they'd been when he was a teenager. He was dressed simply in a pair of slacks and a soft gray sweater, and she regretted that she hadn't made time to stop back at her hotel room and change into something a little more feminine and a little less business-y.

"It's been too long." Somehow, the phone didn't do justice to the sound of that voice in person.

"It has." Nancy agreed with a shy smile. She reached out and gave his shoulder a squeeze with one hand. "You look good."

"So do you." It was the most basic exchange of small talk, but his eyes told her he meant every word. His brother Joe had the reputation for being the charmer of the family, but it was Frank's understated warmth and sincerity that never failed to make her a little weak at the knees.

"All by your lonesome tonight, huh?" she said, acknowledging what felt like the elephant in the room. When they were teenagers, it was rare to ever see Frank without Joe, or vice versa. She knew the brothers had remained close, but attending different schools had put some geographical distance between them.

"Until you got here." he said. He took her coat and draped it over the back of her chair before pulling it out for her to sit down. "Joe said to tell you he's sorry he couldn't make it, but he has an exam early in the morning."

"That's okay." she said, taking her seat and waiting for him to sit as well. "I mean, I'm sorry to have missed him, but I'm glad I got you." She hoped he couldn't see the slight flush she felt creeping over her cheeks. She was suddenly very aware that this was the first time they'd ever been alone together when they were both romantically unattached. She and Ned had called it quits a little over a year ago, and, as far as she knew, Frank hadn't had any relationship last longer than a few months since he and Callie broke up in freshman year. _Excellent, Drew, _she mentally berated herself. _After three long years, you've been in the room with Frank Hardy for two minutes and already it's goodbye level-headed P.I., hello lovesick teenager._ If she hadn't been blushing before, she was now.

Normally, Frank would have noticed and politely pretended not to, letting the moment gloss over, so maybe it was the fact that they _were_ both single that made him rest his hand over hers on the table and squeeze lightly. He opened his mouth to say something and she was nearly leaning forward in anticipation, so naturally the waitress chose that moment to approach their table and introduce herself, breaking the spell.

While Frank ordered wine, Nancy scanned the menu and chose the first thing she found that she liked. The waitress, Theresa, disappeared, but the moment was gone. In an effort to regain her bearings, Nancy took a look around the restaurant. It was small and cozy, dimly lit, and decorated in a classic Italian style, with candles and red-and-white checkered tablecloths adorning each table. It wasn't very crowded, although that was likely because it was late in the evening and the dinner crowd had come and gone. There was a married couple in their mid-fifties sharing a meal at a nearby table, and a lone man seated by himself at the bar. Two men were sitting in the back corner booth, one an older, hard-looking man, the other, whom Nancy found her curious eye drawn to, was in his early thirties, nervous and sweaty.

The waitress interrupted her line of sight, stopping in front of her and Frank to pour them each a glass of red wine from a decanter. Was it Nancy's imagination, or did Theresa's hand shake slightly as she poured? She opened her mouth to ask if there was something wrong, but Theresa headed her off with a stream of nervous chatter. "Here you are, folks, let me know if there's anything else I can do for you. How are you doing? Are we celebrating a special occasion tonight? An anniversary, maybe?"

"Not exactly." Nancy answered. "We're not together, just some old friends catching up." There was no reason to deny it as quickly as she did, but maybe the waitress's tense attitude was catching.

Frank looked at the two of them, bemused, but said nothing. When Theresa walked away he gave her a little smile. "I've missed being mistaken for a couple with you, Nan."

She laughed, and the conversation turned to easier subjects—the conference, Frank's coursework, mutual friends, Joe. The one thing they didn't discuss—didn't have to discuss—was cases. No matter how busy Frank was with his J.D., he always had time to bounce ideas around regarding the cases Nancy encountered at the investigative agency where she worked, and she would always return the favor whenever he stumbled upon a mystery of his own, as he was wont to do. It was something they both loved—not just mysteries, but the act of puzzling them out together—and it was why she could never feel awkward around Frank Hardy for too long. No matter how long they went without seeing each other, they always fell right back into step as though they had never been apart.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the nervous man in the corner booth shifting restlessly. His companion quieted him with a stern look, but not before the man's jacket had parted enough for Nancy to see something that made her stomach clench: an automatic pistol tucked into a concealed holster. Though she was rarely one to make snap judgments about people, Nancy's intuition was telling her that this guy and his partner were bad news.

Just then, the man looked up and saw her watching him. He tugged his jacket to cover the gun again and slouched down in his seat, letting his legs fall open and giving her a suggestive leer. His gap-toothed grin was cold and cruel, and Nancy quickly looked away.

Frank had stopped talking, following her line of sight. Before he could turn around and look at the gap-toothed man, Nancy put a hand on his arm to stop him. She leaned in close, tucking her hair behind her ear in a flirtatious gesture that was mostly for show. "This could be nothing, but the guy in the back booth is carrying. I think his friend might be too." she murmured.

Frank's expression grew serious, but he didn't make any moves to look back at the pair or otherwise tip them off to the fact that they were being discussed. "I noticed them when I came in... they didn't exactly seem too friendly. With each other or anyone, although I think the older one knew the waitress. You think they're up to something?"

"I don't know..." Nancy hedged. She wasn't sure exactly what to think of them. They certainly looked up to no good, but if they were planning to rob the place, why would they sit down and eat a meal there first? "They look anxious, especially the younger guy. He caught me looking at him just now. He..." She shivered, and Frank placed a comforting hand on her forearm. "There's something off about him, Frank. He seems mean. Mean and stupid. And nervous."

"And armed." Frank said. "Sounds like a perfect storm. Maybe we should leave."

Gap-tooth and his partner were making her a little uneasy, but that didn't mean she wanted to leave. "They haven't done anything wrong yet," she pointed out. "Maybe it's all nothing and I'm just being paranoid. Besides, we've already ordered. And I'm having a good time."

"If you're sure." Frank said, but he smiled all the same.

Still, Nancy couldn't shake the feeling of unfriendly eyes on her, and though Frank continued to make conversation, she could sense that he was feeling the tension as well. She kept hoping the men would finish their meal and leave, but they didn't seem to be in any hurry.

The young guy got up and walked over to the bar. He made a request of Theresa, and she, rather reluctantly, served him a shot of liquor, which he slammed down with a satisfied sigh despite a disapproving glare from his friend. Nancy watched the proceedings from beneath lowered lashes, blinking and looking away as he took a winding route away from the bar, passing directly behind their table.

As he brushed past, Nancy gasped, jerking forward in her seat as she felt a cold caress slide along the top of her shoulders, fingers dipping into the collar of her shirt. She whirled on the man, unable to believe his audacity.

Frank's knee-jerk reaction had been to come to her defense, leaping to his feet to confront the man. That was all it took for gap-tooth to draw his gun. The soft conversations, the clatter of silverware—everything stopped as the other patrons stared in shock and fear at what was happening.

Frank was frozen, hands spread, staring at the pistol pointed at his chest. Gap-tooth grinned his sick smile. "Hey, Red, I don't think your date likes me too much."

This man was clearly more unstable than she'd even guessed, and Nancy tried to keep her voice as calm and steady as possible... a tricky feat considering that all she could seem to focus on was the muzzle of the gun pointing at Frank. "Don't shoot. Please don't shoot," she said. "We don't even know you. What are you doing?"

The older man clambered out of the booth. "Buck, you goddamned idiot."

Gap tooth—Buck—lowered the gun a bit, grimacing at his partner. "The redhead's been eyeing me since she sat down. They know something, I know they do."

"Well everybody knows now. How stupid can you be?" growled the older man. He pulled a gun of his own, surveying the rest of the restaurant. "All right, folks. Here's how it's going to be. Stay calm, don't move, and you might just get out of here alive." He seemed satisfied when the order was met with stunned silence and turned to Theresa. "Who else is in the restaurant?"

"The—uh—the cook. And, and a busboy. In the kitchen." Theresa stammered.

"Get them out here." he commanded Buck. "And anyone else you find."

With a final sneer, Buck did as he said. Once the gun was no longer pointed at Frank, an almost tangible wave of relief flowed through Nancy. The situation still didn't look good, but at least she could think again.

A large, swarthy man—the cook—and a wiry, terrified teenaged busboy were herded in at gunpoint to join the group. "First things first." said Buck's partner. "I want everyone's cell phones. Get them out, on the table, now."

Moving gingerly, the patrons produced their cell phones. Buck's partner pulled a paper bag out of his jacket pocket and shook it out, tossing it to Buck. "Collect 'em."

Buck took the sack and crushed it against Frank's chest with a nasty grin. "You heard the man. Let's go."

The gun once again trained on him, Frank made slow, even movements as he unfolded the bag and placed his own cell phone in it. He reached out for Nancy's and she placed it into his hand. The brief touch of skin on skin was all the reassurance they could afford to give each other at the moment, but it was something.

Frank moved around the room, taking the cell phones from the frightened married couple and the staff. He turned around and walked towards the bar, holding out his hand for the last man's phone.

The paper bag began to ring.

Buck's finger tightened on the trigger once, twice.

Somebody screamed.

Frank lurched forward and lay still on the tiled floor, a puddle of blood forming around his head.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Haha sorry guys, you were right; that cliffie was rude of me. Hence the super-fast new chapter. Thanks a million to my reviewers supernaturalsam (You caught me, I'm totally after your crown.), SC15, KennaC, Stork Hardy, Caranath (Sorry/Not sorry.), and max2013. Thank you, you're great!

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"No!" Nancy didn't know whether the word came out as a whisper or a shout; the pounding of her heart was drowning out everything else. Without thought she vaulted out of her chair, only to be brought up short as Buck aimed his gun at her.

"Don't move."

It took her a moment to decipher what he meant. She became vaguely aware that the other patrons were panicking. The husband clutched his wife. The busboy buried his ashen face in his hands. The waitress had dissolved into sobs, choking out "This wasn't supposed to happen..." over and over. Why should she care? She didn't even know Frank.

Nancy looked at Buck, and then at Buck's partner, taking a slow step towards them. The room quieted, as though they were taking their cue from her... or perhaps it was just that her focus on Frank meant blocking out everything else. "I'm going over to my friend." she somehow managed to say. "If you want to stop me, you're going to have to shoot me too."

Buck looked like he might want to take her up on that offer, but his partner simply waved her over with his gun.

A few shaky steps took her to where Frank lay crumpled on his side, and she got to her knees beside him, hands hovering, unsure where to touch. Finally she reached out and felt the pulse in his neck; it was there, and strong, giving her the courage to explore further.

She slid her hand between his face and the floor, turning his head to see the injury. It looked gruesome, half his face coated with blood, but it was only a graze, a scalp wound. She let out a shaky breath and tried to roll him over, to move his head out of the pool of blood. Bracing her hand against his shoulder, the relieved breath caught in her throat as it came away sticky with blood.

Already knowing what she'd find, she rose up higher on her knees to peer over his shoulder. A dark stain blossomed in the middle of his back, oozing slowly but steadily towards the floor. She plucked the sweater carefully between her fingers and pulled it back to look at the wound, welling with crimson blood. An entry hole, but no exit. This was bad. Very bad.

She acknowledged the fact and moved on, forcing her mind into emergency medical training mode.

She hardly noticed the stares of the onlookers as she reached up to grab the cloth napkins off a nearby table, wiping the blood from his face before wadding them up to push under his head as a pillow. Then she grabbed the tablecloth, yanking it to the ground and sending silverware, candles, and menus clattering to the floor. Twisting it into a long makeshift bandage, she gingerly pressed the center of it to the source of the blood on his back.

"Ow..." Frank came out of it with a pained groan.

"Sorry, sorry!" Nancy whispered, torn between causing him pain and fixing the bandage. She could feel him beginning to shiver under her hands, and she fought to erase the panicked edge from her voice. _Keep it light. Don't scare him. _"I'm sorry. Can you hold still for one more minute?"

"Nancy?"

"Mm-hm. What's up, Frank?" This was one of those situations where you were supposed to keep the person talking, wasn't it? Anyway, anything was better than those few moments of dead silence between the shots and when she'd felt his pulse beating against her fingers.

The corner of his mouth twitched at that. "Think I got shot."

She swallowed the lump in her throat. "Yeah," she said, "A little bit..."

"How bad?"

She did the only thing a friend could do in this situation: lie. "It's not bad, you're going to be fine. One's just a little graze and the other one got you in the shoulder, kind of." She pulled the tablecloth around under his body while she talked, hoping the conversation would help to distract him. Then she tied the ends in front of his chest, as tightly as she dared.

"Kind of?" he repeated, hissing in pain at the tightening of the bandage.

"Sorry, sorry." she apologized again. He was shaking badly now, and she had to fight the instinct to pull him into her arms and warm him up. The responsibility for his life had somehow fallen right into her hands, and nothing scared her more than knowing she wasn't going to be enough. "Hey Frank? Can you hold this right here for me?"

He groaned again, but closed his hand around the napkin she had pressed to his head anyway. "Okay... For you."

"Always a gentleman." she whispered teasingly, giving his hand a quick squeeze. "You relax for a minute, I'll be right back."

"...'Kay."

She got to her feet, wiping her bloody hands on her pencil skirt, and marched back to Buck and his partner. "You need to get my friend some help." She was talking mostly to the partner, instinctively knowing that Buck wasn't a man who would be brought around by a rational argument.

"Fat chance, Red. Besides, I thought you said he was gonna be fine." Buck scoffed.

Nancy ignored him. "Your partner shot my friend in the back. Let me call an ambulance. It's not murder yet." she said in a hushed, even voice.

"No ambulance." said the partner. His tone indicated that he was impressed by her actions—and not so by Buck's—but that he had a job to do and he wasn't willing to let a few snags land him in prison now. "Get him out of here. You got a back office or something?" he asked the tearful waitress.

Theresa nodded. "There's a couch in it, you can put him there."

"But—" Nancy protested.

"Get him out." said the partner, the final word on the matter.

"Unless you want we should just put him out of his misery, right, Sal?" Buck sneered, waving the pistol to everyone's alarm.

Nancy speared him with an icy glance as she moved back to Frank. Theresa was holding open the back door, and Nancy looked hopelessly at Frank, trying to figure out how she could move him without hurting him, even if she had the strength to lift him. Swallowing hard, she crouched down and pulled his good arm around her shoulder.

"We going somewhere, Nan?" Frank asked as she tried to hoist him to his feet.

"Yeah, somewhere you can lie down." she told him. He was trying to move, she could tell, but the shock and blood loss were affecting him and his body was being less than cooperative.

"I thought I was lying down." he said, hissing in another pained breath.

"Would I leave you to languish on a tile floor, Hardy?"

"You might have to." he gritted out. His eyes were brighter now, and he seemed more lucid, which meant the shock was starting to wear off. Unfortunately, it also meant he'd be feeling the pain much more acutely.

"No," she grunted. Buck stepped forward, to help or harm she didn't know, and she pointed a halting finger at him. "Don't touch him."

The married man untangled his hands from his wife's and stood up, drawing everyone's attention. "Nancy. It's Nancy, right?" He kept his eyes fixed on her, only briefly letting them flicker to Buck and Sal.

Nancy nodded.

"If you hang onto his shoulders and let me take his legs, we should be able to get him in there." said the man.

The fact of the matter was that she and Frank needed help. It wouldn't be the first time they'd gotten by on the kindness of strangers. "Okay. Thank you."

Frank did his part by not saying a word as Nancy and her new friend manhandled him down a short hallway and into the back office, finally managing to settle him on the threadbare couch. At Sal's instruction, Buck followed them into the tiny room and ripped the phone jack out of the wall. The window faced into a back alley and was tiny—too small for even a child to fit through. Whatever else may be the case, they weren't getting out from here.

The stranger supported Frank's shoulders as Nancy readjusted the bandage, trying to put as much pressure on the wound as possible. By the time they got him laid out in any sort of comfortable position, Frank's face was white as a sheet and covered with sweat from the strain. Nancy tried to wipe it away as best she could with the bloodstained napkin. She offered her other hand to the man who'd helped her carry Frank before belatedly realizing she was still rather bloodstained herself. "Thank you... sir." She blushed, realizing she'd forgotten to ask his name.

"Joseph." the man said, shaking her hand anyway. "Joseph Hawk."

"Joseph." Nancy said. Despite the circumstance she couldn't help but smile at the coincidence.

"Joe." Frank repeated, with a rasping laugh that turned into a cough.

Then Theresa was there, offering them clean linens and a pitcher of water with shaking hands. Nancy wet a napkin and ran it lightly over Frank's face while Joseph draped a couple of tablecloths over him like blankets, tucking in his feet.

"...Ask Theresa..."

Frank tried to sit up, but Nancy held him down gently. "What do you need, Frank? I'll get it."

"Ask her... what was supposed to happen."

Theresa had been standing helplessly in the corner, but at Frank's words she paled and started backing away. Automatically, Nancy leaped up and grabbed her wrist, tugging her back into the room. "Hold on there." Suddenly she recalled what Frank was talking about. "Right after he was shot, you kept saying 'this wasn't supposed to happen.' What wasn't?" Of course, the real question was the one Frank had already asked. "What _was_ supposed to happen, Theresa?"

"Nobody else was supposed to get hurt." Theresa said miserably. "I'm sorry!"

Theresa wasn't just falling apart in the face of a dangerous situation; she was actually taking some kind of responsibility for the mess. "Nobody _else_ was supposed to get hurt?" Nancy repeated slowly, anger beginning to tighten her jaw. Sal and Buck had both brought guns to the restaurant, had sat down and eaten a full meal, as if they were lying in wait...

"A hit." Frank said, reaching the conclusion at the same time as Nancy.

She ran a gentle hand through his sweaty hair, but the look she gave Theresa was anything but gentle. "Who's the target?"

Theresa's eyes filled with tears again. "I can't. I can't tell you, I—"

"Who?!" Nancy demanded, but Theresa only shook her head.

"Theresa..." Frank said softly. "This isn't a simple hit and run anymore. Those guys..." He was having a hard time catching his breath, and Nancy tried to motion for him to relax, but he kept on. "They blew it when they alerted everyone in the restaurant. We've all... seen them, we all know them now... They're..."

"They're not just going to let us go when this is over." Nancy finished for him.

"Right." Frank closed his eyes in relief that the thought was out.

Theresa looked at his pale face miserably and said, "It's Vic Leonetti."

Nancy's heart sank. She wasn't too familiar with the New York mafia families, but dollars to donuts Leonetti was some kind of crime boss. "And you told those guys when he'd be here."

"They can be very persuasive!" Theresa protested. "Vic is a big up-and-comer on the scene, and there are certain people who don't like that. They said, if I didn't help them, my family would be in danger. They said they could arrange for my brother to have an 'accident'. He's just a kid!"

Nancy's grip on Theresa's wrist loosened. "How much time do we have? What time is he coming?"

"Ten o'clock."

The grandfather clock in the corner said 9:35. They had less than thirty minutes to make a plan, or they were going to be stuck in the middle of a mob hit.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Thank you to my readers, in particular my awesome reviewers KennaC (I could _never_ kill Frank off in the_ first_ chapter!), Caranath (If Nan and the boys have taught me anything it's that threatening notes mean I'm doing a good job lol), bhar, leyapearl (Unfinished business is right...), supernaturalsam (No I don't call it resolution, I call it rising action! Stay tuned for the climax my friend ;P), J, SC15 (I guess when someone points a gun at you and pulls the trigger a little bit?), Stork Hardy, and max2013. You are all wonderful, and I love reading your comments!

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The office door swung open to reveal Buck leaning against the doorframe, knocking at it lazily with his gun. "Knock knock, what's this? A private party?" Again, it seemed to Nancy as though he was leering straight at her.

"Leave the girls alone. They're just trying to save the life of the guy you shot for no reason." Joseph said, standing up to his full height, a rather unimpressive five foot six or seven, but Nancy appreciated the thought.

"So my finger got itchy." said Buck with a shrug. "Anyways, I'm already taking Sal's crap about jumping the gun—" he grinned. "Jumping the gun. That's pretty good, huh? Point is, I don't need anyone else getting on my case, so shut up, old man."

"What do you want from us, Buck?" Theresa said.

"Glad you asked." Buck said. "See, Red's friend made a big mess out there, and Sal wants the place to look presentable for company, ya get me?" The look in his eyes told them there would be no arguing with him.

The thought that Buck was taking her away from Frank's side while he was injured to clean up his blood made her own blood boil, but Nancy reined in a burst of temper that would only make things worse. She rested a soft hand on Frank's abdomen and said, "Frank? I'll be right back, okay?"

His eyelids fluttered, but didn't open.

"Someone has to stay with him," she said, electing Joseph. "Try to keep him warm, and if he needs me,_ you come get me_."

Joseph nodded and moved to take her place by the side of the couch.

Nancy passed by Buck without acknowledging him, even when she felt that cold hand slide down her back.

The dining room was quiet, everyone still sitting in frightened silence. The place where Frank had been shot still looked like what it was: a crime scene. Sal had plenty of hands to clean up the restaurant if he wanted, Nancy realized, he just didn't want to leave them alone together in the back.

"Is your friend okay?" Joseph's wife spoke up quietly.

"He's still alive." Nancy said with a cool glance at Sal. "Barely." She folded her arms across her chest and spoke frankly to him. "I know what you're up to, and it's never going to work. Buck fumbled it the moment he pulled that gun. All these people, all these witnesses. If you were smart, you'd get out of here while you still can and find a way to get Vic Leonetti some other day. And maybe, _maybe_ if we get Frank help soon enough, you won't be looking at murder charges."

Once again, Sal looked grudgingly impressed, but he dug his heels in. "Just clean this up," was all he said.

While Theresa grabbed a clean tablecloth and replaced the one that had become Frank's bandage, Nancy wet a towel at the bar and got to her knees on the tiled floor. The blood had already started to congeal, and it made her a little queasy just looking at it. But it only took a few minutes to erase any trace that Frank had ever been there, and somehow, that was worse.

Theresa picked up the fallen candle and placed it back on the table, lighting it. Nancy gathered the scattered silverware. Keeping her back turned to Sal and Buck, she slid one of the steak knives into her shirt sleeve. One knife was nothing compared to two guns, but it helped to feel like she was doing _something_.

Joesph came out of the back room and laid a hand on her shoulder. "Nancy, I think he needs you."

Her heart froze in her chest and she dumped the rest of the silverware on the bar, heading immediately for the back office. Once again she was stopped by two words and a gun, this time aimed by Sal.

"Hold it."

She rounded on him. "Don't tell me to hold it." she said in a voice she barely recognized, a dangerous voice that wasn't her own. She glanced up at the clock. "If you're gonna shoot me, shoot me. You'll have fourteen minutes to clean up the mess. But don't you _dare_ tell me to _hold it_."

She spun on her heel and stalked towards the office, muscles tensed, ready to hear the shot, feel the bullet in her back... but it didn't come. Her hand closed around the doorknob and she was safe in the back office. At least, for now.

Frank's face was creased with pain, but his eyes were open, and he smiled at her when she came in. "Hey."

She swallowed around the lump that had suddenly appeared in her throat. "...Hey."

"I was... worried about you."

"You were worried about _me_?" she repeated softly, taking a seat on the couch next to his hip. "Don't be silly."

He smiled and found her hands with his. "What's... what's going on out there?"

His fingers were cold and clammy, and she rubbed them, trying to bring back the warmth. "It's not great, Frank. Those guys, Buck and Sal, they're waiting here to take out some big time hood named Vic Leonetti. He's supposed to come in about thirteen minutes and if we don't do something we're probably going to find ourselves in the middle of a shootout."

"Great." Frank's head rolled back to lean against the arm of the couch. "What can I... how can I help, Nan?"

"Frank..." For as long as she'd known him, Frank had always been the brilliant one, the man-with-the-plan. But tonight he needed her to come up with one, and even if the situation looked hopeless, how could she let him down now? "I've been thinking of something. You'll think I'm crazy, and it probably won't work, but we have to try something." she improvised. "Here, lean forward a bit, let me check your shoulder."

"...Sure."

The wound was still bleeding, the tablecloth soaked through. _A lot of blood_, she thought. _More than he can afford to lose. _

_He's dying._

Despite the things she'd said to Sal and Buck, that thought still hit her hard, like a punch in the gut, like a sudden sensation of drowning.

"Well, I'm thinking, you could cause a diversion back here, maybe throw something or break something." She grabbed another couple of cloth napkins and pushed them in under the makeshift bandage while she talked, anything to increase the pressure. "Sal will tell Buck to come check it out. While they're separated, that's when I make my move."

"Too dangerous." Frank grunted. "Guns."

Typical Frank: not even two bullet holes could distract him from the fact that her plan wasn't much of a plan at all. "It's all we got, Hardy. We're running out of time. Besides, I'm not totally helpless." She shook her arm just enough to show him the shining tip of the steak knife in her sleeve.

"You're crazy. Didn't anyone ever tell you... not to bring a knife to a gunfight?" he moaned as she helped him lay back down.

He was breathing like he'd run a marathon just from the exertion of simply sitting forward, and it broke her heart, but she laughed anyway. "Yeah, I might've heard that somewhere. But you know me."

"I... know you." he agreed fondly. "...When do you want... the diversion?"

"How about... three minutes? Give me a few minutes to get out there without them expecting something." Nancy said. She picked up his left hand and propped it in front of him so that his watch was visible. "9:52."

"Yeah." he nodded, and she made to get up, but he grabbed her hand. "Nan?"

"Yeah, Frank?" God, he was giving her that look again, the one that made her want to forget the rest of the world and stay right here with him. He looked weak, faded, in a way that scared her. _Please don't say it_, she mentally begged him. _I can't say goodbye to you, not now, not like this_.

"I just wanted to say... sorry I invited you to a mob hangout for dinner."

She choked on a laugh. "Don't be sorry; you know I love the excitement. ...In fact, this is the best date I've ever been on. Getting shot was really going above and beyond though."

"Hey..." he said, "Is that what this is? …A date?"

It took everything she had to keep her face from crumpling. Even so, her voice came out more watery than she'd have liked. "Well, yeah, I think so... Don't you?"

"Yeah."

Overwhelmed, she rested a hand on the side of his face and pressed a kiss to his pale, cracked lips. The contact echoed through her like a tolling bell, just like it always had—like she hoped it always would—and she rested her forehead briefly against his. "I'd better get out there."

"You better. 9:52." he said bravely, watching her as she got up and went to the door. "You know... I'm gonna have trouble topping this... for date number two."

She laughed and closed the door behind her, pressing her back against it just for a moment to let the tears fall.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Complain about my cliffies all you want, my loyal readers. I know you love me. ;) As always, thanks a million to my reviewers: Caranath, LazyPanther, j, hollyboo2001, SC15, KennaC, max2013, jabba1, and Foxy121!

* * *

The drizzle from earlier had turned into a full-blown thunderstorm, and lightning flashed in the windows as Nancy reentered the dining room.

"Hey Nurse Nancy," Buck taunted, "How's the patient?"

"Go to hell." Nancy sat down at the table next to Sal's and rubbed her hand over her face, trying to look defeated. It wasn't a difficult act.

"Aw, don't be like that, sweetheart. There's plenty of fish in the sea." Buck said, sitting down next to her. Under the table, he placed a hand on her knee. She somehow refrained from forgetting the plan and stabbing him on the spot, instead just turning away from him and his wandering hands. It seemed Sal had given up on curbing his thoughtlessly exuberant partner, because he remained seated and said nothing.

9:51. If Theresa could be believed, that meant nine minutes til showtime, and Sal was very aware of it. He'd arranged the scant few customers and staff into a tableau of normalcy. The cook and the busboy had been positioned behind the bar, across from the lone drinker. Joseph and his wife were seated at their table, picking unenthusiastically at the cold meals that had been prepared for them before the whole ordeal started. Sal sat in his corner booth alone, the gun never leaving his hand.

Theresa set a fresh wine glass down in front of Nancy and poured her a drink, trying for a smile. Nancy tried to smile back. She toyed with the stem of the glass and tried not to look at the clock. Any second now. Would Frank come through on his promise of a diversion? Was he still conscious? Was he even still—?

The lights went out.

The room was thrown into deep shadow, the only light coming in from the outside streetlamps and the dim candles on the tables. Frank had come through. Nancy tensed for action.

Sal leaped to his feet. "Get the lights back on! He's never gonna come in here if there's no lights! Theresa!" he barked, startling the frightened waitress. "Where's the circuit breaker?"

"Ih-In the back office." she stuttered.

"Buck! Take care of it. And hurry!" Sal commanded.

"Sure, Sal." Buck said, getting up and heading toward the back office.

The moment he was out of sight, Nancy took her opportunity and lunged at Sal, grabbing for the gun in the dark. It went off, but the shot missed, shattering one of the bottles of liquor behind the bar. Sal cursed, grabbing her by the hand and twisting her painfully into his arms before pressing the gun to her ribs. "Brave, Nancy." he gritted into her ear. "But stupid."

Buck had run back in at the sound of the shot. "Sal?"

"Your girl decided to try to be a hero. Why don't you take her in the back and take care of her there?" Sal said coldly. He really still thought he had a chance to pull off this hit, Nancy realized. He really didn't want to shoot her in the front room where Leonetti might see and get tipped off! "And get these damned lights back on!"

He shoved Nancy at Buck, who caught her gleefully. "Let's go, Red. You can keep me company in the dark back there."

He crushed her against him, and Nancy panicked, reaching out for a weapon, anything. Her hand closed around the full wine glass on her table and she grabbed it up, splashing the wine directly into his eyes.

Buck roared in pain. "You bitch! You did that on purpose!" Enraged, he leveled his gun at her.

"In the back!" Sal hissed at him. He turned his gun on the rest of the room, in case anyone had the idea of trying to help her. "Nobody else move."

Nancy stumbled backwards down the hallway, Buck shoving her along with his gun hand while wiping his stinging eyes with the other. They burst through the door to the back office, and Nancy barely had time to register the sight of Frank curled up on the floor before Buck was on top of her, tackling her against the wall. Despite herself, Nancy shrieked, bringing her hands up in front of her.

The sound covered the gasp Buck made as he staggered back, the steak knife lodged in his chest, buried to the hilt between two of his ribs. His face was shrouded in shadow. Time seemed to stretch, the single moment lasting minutes. Hours. He drew in a wet-sounding breath.

The gun made a skittering sound as it fell from Buck's hand and slid in the dark. A moment later, Buck fell himself.

Nancy felt herself quaking as she slowly slid down the wall, lowering herself beside Buck. A tentative hand placed against his pulseless neck confirmed it.

She'd killed him.

Tears welled up in her eyes. "Frank." she whispered. "Frank?"

He didn't answer. Her shivering intensified, and for a moment all she could do was bring her shaking hands to her face and try to remember to breathe. She was alone, in the dark, with two dead men, and on the other side of the door—

"You get it, Nan?"

The faint mumble filled her with such incredible relief that for a second she didn't understand what Frank was asking her. Get what?

The gun.

"_Buck! The lights!_" In the front room, Sal sounded furious.

Nancy crawled around on the floor, feeling for the gun. She started when the grandfather clock began to chime next to her head. Ten o'clock.

"_Buck! For the love of—He's leaving!_" Sal was howling now. "_You imbecile! Do you know what you've—he's gone! Buck! ...Buck?_"

Her own breathing was echoing in her ears as she searched frantically for the fallen gun. Sal was coming back here, she could hear his footsteps, he was right on the other side of the door! Stumbling on Frank's unmoving figure, she caught herself on the wall with one hand. Her questing fingertips found another kind of cool metal: the circuit breaker panel.

As Sal burst in through the door, Nancy threw the panel open and switched on the lights. In the brief second that he stood there, blinded by the sudden brightness, she smacked the gun out of his hand, scooping it up and pointing it at him. "Hold it."

Her hands were deceptively steady as she kept Sal frozen at gunpoint while she called for Theresa to summon the police and an ambulance. Joseph and the cook gladly took Sal off her hands, bringing him out front to wait for the cops.

For her part, Nancy draped a tablecloth over Buck's body. It wasn't something she could think about right now. Collecting Buck's and Sal's guns, she dropped them tiredly into one of the desk drawers before sinking down beside Frank, gently lifting his head off the hard floor and into her lap.

"Hey," she said softly, "How'd you get all the way over here to turn off the lights?" The circuit breaker was maybe two or three steps from the couch at most, but at this point _she _could barely walk that, let alone him.

He gave a rusty laugh. "Don't know... trying to impress you, I guess."

"I'm impressed." she whispered. The sound of approaching sirens filled her with hope, and she began to laugh too.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: So we come to the end. Shout out to all my readers, and my wonderful reviewers KennaC, Caranath (did you hack into my computer and read the end? Because you nailed it lol), mackie80, bhar, leyapearl, J, SC15, Stork Hardy, max2013, and SnowPrincess88! I loved reading every one of your comments. In fact, you all seem to know where I'm going with this; I must be getting predictable... ;)

Also shout out to _Starsky & Hutch_ for the plot inspiration which I'm surprised nobody called me on. (You'd think there'd be a lot of overlap between Hardy Boys and S&H fans...?)

On with the last chapter. Hope you like!

* * *

Nancy got out of the car as it pulled to a stop and leaned down to the driver's window. "Thanks for the ride, Joseph, Abby. I appreciate everything you've done." The older couple had been kind enough to offer her a ride from the police station, even stopping at her hotel to give her the chance to change out of her stained, rumpled clothes.

"Don't be silly." said Joseph. "You probably saved all our lives last night. It's the least we could do."

"I couldn't have done it alone." Nancy said, honestly.

"With some help from your young man, of course." Abby said from the passenger seat. "When you see him, tell him we said thank you."

"I... I will." Nancy promised. She hadn't been able to see Frank for over eight hours now, since they'd wheeled him out of the ambulance and into surgery. _He_ hadn't seen _her_ in even longer, having passed out cold in her lap before the ambulance even got to the restaurant. She'd wondered, as he disappeared into the operating room, whether it was the last time she'd see him alive, had sat in the waiting room and tortured herself over the last thing she'd said to him before he'd lost consciousness (some stupid teasing comment meant to make him feel better, not send him off into eternity) and what she would change, if she had the night to do over (a lot).

Several grueling hours later he had been taken into recovery, and only then had she allowed herself to be taken down to the police station to help answer a few questions about just what had gone on that night. The hospital staff had told her that the operation had gone well and promised to call her if there were any complications, but still... who knew what she would find inside?

"He'll be alright." Abby said, as if she could read Nancy's mind. "He's not going anywhere without you."

Joseph reached over and squeezed his wife's hand before smiling at Nancy. "She's right. Now get in there."

Nancy gave them a last wave and turned toward her destination. The sun was just beginning to rise, but the predawn light was obscured by the bright lights and signs of the hospital entrance. The doors whooshed open to admit her, and Nancy walked straight to Frank's room, bypassing the doors to the OR where Frank had been operated on and the waiting room where she'd spent a good part of the night dozing uncomfortably, jerking awake every so often to find that she was still in the same nightmare she'd been dreaming about.

Visiting hours didn't technically start this early, but after the night she'd had, she wasn't going to let a little thing like that bother her. Since she didn't see Frank's parents in any of the waiting areas she'd passed, she guessed they took a similar view of hospital visitor policy. Tapping gently on the door, she let herself inside.

"Nancy!"

She couldn't help but smile as she was greeted by three happy faces and hushed voices. Frank's parents, Fenton and Laura, were sitting in chairs on the far side of their sleeping son's hospital bed. On the near side sat blond, handsome Joe Hardy, who immediately leaped out of his chair to give her a hug. "There's the woman of the hour!"

"Joe!" Like the rest of them, she kept her voice low to avoid disturbing Frank. "When did you get here?"

"'Bout two hours ago."

"I see how it is," Nancy teased. "When I ask you to have dinner with me it's _sorry, Nan, I have a big exam tomorrow_ but when Frank takes a tiny little bullet to the back, you come running?"

Joe snorted. "I got the teacher to give me an extension. Dinner with you doesn't count as a family emergency... although apparently it should."

Nancy rolled her eyes as she pulled away from him to hug Fenton and Laura, but she was smiling. Jokes were good. Jokes meant the danger had passed. "How is he?" she asked anyway.

"The doctors say with some physical therapy he should make a full recovery," Fenton said, "And he was lucky the bullet didn't hit anything vital and that you were able to stem the bleeding."

Nancy sighed with relief. "Thank god."

"How are you?" Joe asked quietly, and Nancy frowned at the searching note in his voice.

"Okay," she said, "Tired. Why?"

"Frank was awake and talking to us for a little bit before you got here." Joe said. "He told us you stabbed one of the gunmen to death with a steak knife?" He reached out and wrapped a gentle arm around her shoulders, undercutting the bluntness of his phrasing.

_Oh. That._

"Joseph!" Laura reprimanded, but Nancy only shook her head, letting it rest against Joe's shoulder.

"They didn't arrest me or anything. The police said it looked like an open-and-shut case of self-defense, and all the witnesses corroborated my story." she told them. "I called my father; he'll take care of representation if I need it, but it shouldn't be a problem."

Laura reached over and placed a hand on her shoulder. "We're glad to hear that, honey, but how are _you_ doing?"

The concern in her eyes almost did Nancy in, and she dropped her gaze to the ground. As much as she'd talked about the sequence of events at the police station, she hadn't really let herself think about how killing Buck had made her _feel_. "I didn't mean to kill him. But I didn't really... I had to do something or we all would have..." she trailed off helplessly.

Laura took both of Nancy's hands. "And we are so grateful that you did, Nancy. Thank you."

Gratitude burned in Nancy's heart as Laura squeezed her hands before letting them go. Joseph and Abby thanking her was one thing, but she hadn't expected anyone else, anyone who hadn't been there, to understand—let alone thank her!—for killing Buck.

"Frank told us there was nothing else you could have done." Fenton added. "He said it was your quick thinking and fast actions that saved everyone else in that restaurant. Including him."

Joe said nothing, but brought his other arm up around her and hugged her tightly. Nancy leaned into him and took a deep breath, shaking her head and forcing a smile. If there had been another way, she would have taken it, but the way things had worked out... for now, this was enough. "Thanks." she told the three of them softly, before adding, "...Although I doubt poor Frank even remembers half of what happened last night."

"I do too." Frank mumbled, stirring slightly in his bed before opening one brown eye. "I remember everything."

Nancy's heart gave a little flutter, whether from his words or simply hearing his voice she didn't know. She had to admit, she'd wondered if what had happened after he'd been shot—the kiss, it being a date—was real or just comfort in a desperate situation. She knew which one she wanted it to be. "Everything, huh?"

"Well, enough." Frank groaned. He blinked again and this time both eyes opened. "Hey Joe, get your hands off my girl. Took me forever to land a date with this one. Get your own."

"Oh, brother..." Joe released her, and Nancy couldn't help beaming as she took a step closer to Frank and sat down next to him on the bed, reaching out to cup his face. The head of the bed was raised to avoid putting unnecessary pressure on his wound, putting them almost at eye level.

She let her thumb skim over the bandage where he'd received four stitches dangerously close to his hairline. "Decided on that second date yet, Hardy?" she asked. "Let me guess: a romantic picnic in an active minefield?"

He turned his face into her palm and kissed it. "Sounds nice."

Joe made a disgusted sound. "Would you believe what passes for sweet talk with these two?" he asked his parents.

"Shut it, Joe." Frank said.

"Yeah," Nancy added, with a grin at Frank. "Or we'll just replace you. You think you're the only Joe in the world?"

"And that's another thing I can't believe." Joe complained. "I leave the two of you alone together for one night and all the sudden you're working a hostage situation with some _other_ guy named Joe. That hardly seems fair."

"I think you're thinking this was more fun than it actually was." Nancy guessed.

"What happened to them anyway, Joseph and Theresa and the rest?" Frank asked.

"They're all fine." Nancy said. "In fact, Joseph and his wife Abby just gave me a ride from the police station. They said to tell you thank you."

"Thank me? You're the one who did all the heavy lifting. You've got more guts than anyone I know, Drew." Frank said fondly, running his thumb along her knee. He couldn't seem to stop touching her, which was good because that was the last thing she wanted him to do.

The danger was past, and Frank was going to recover, and she suddenly felt weak with relief. She shook her head. "You figured it out about Theresa and the hit, you provided the diversion. No one in your condition should have been able to—" Her breath hitched suddenly and she realized to her horror that she was about to cry, right here, in front of his whole family. She closed her eyes tightly and then opened them again, switching subjects abruptly even though she knew they'd all notice. "They—they were talking about bringing Theresa up on conspiracy charges, but given that she was being blackmailed, and that she ultimately helped us out, I think they'll go easy on her."

"And Sal?" Frank prompted, his voice light, easy.

She sent him a grateful look. "I don't know what all they ended up charging him with: attempted murder, false imprisonment, and aggravated assault, for starters. He was also wanted for a ton of priors. Of course, he wouldn't finger whoever hired him, but I don't think anyone really expected him to. I really don't know how he went so long without getting caught." She shrugged. "Guess all it took was one job paired up with a loose cannon like Buck."

"Talk about a lousy hitman." Frank said quietly, giving Nancy's hand a soft squeeze.

She squeezed back, mustering a smile. "Yeah, if that's the kind of help they're hiring for the job, Vic Leonetti is gonna live forever."

Joe yawned and stretched fakely. "We're going to forgive you the morbid jokes because we know you've had a long night, Nance. I'm gonna go grab a cup of coffee. Anyone want to come?"

Nancy blushed as a smiling Fenton and Laura took the less-than-subtle hint and followed their younger son out of the room.

"Finally." Frank said. "C'mere." He tugged on her hand and she leaned in, joining their lips briefly.

She pulled back quickly when she felt him tense. "Are you okay? I mean, should I call a nurse?"

"Don't. I'm okay." He closed his eyes for a second, riding out the pain.

"No you're not."

"I am," he insisted, opening them again to look her in the eyes. He relaxed a little, and so did she. "It hurts, but I'm still in one piece. Thanks to you." The look he gave her was so warm and full of gratitude and admiration that it made her own chest ache.

Thankfully, it seemed the urge to cry had passed. She glared at him instead. "Just do me a favor: next time you decide to defend my honor? Don't."

Knowing she wasn't really upset with him, he only shook his head. "I don't think I can make that promise."

She sighed. "What am I gonna do with you, Hardy?"

"Depends." he said. "How much longer are you in New York for?"

She winced at that. "Two days." This was the part where they usually came up with a dozen perfectly logical reasons to bury these feelings... was that what he wanted?

"Right." His expression shifted to match hers. "Then I guess we won't have time for a whole lot more than this." He kissed her again, deeper this time, and she allowed herself to be drawn in. "...I want a rain check on that second date, Nan." he said when they finally parted.

She tried not to show the way his kiss—and his declaration—made her head spin, but the breathlessness in her voice probably betrayed her. "I have some vacation time coming up."

He smiled, tugging almost shyly on a loose lock of her red-blonde hair. For the first time she realized that he had been nervous about this conversation. He knew as well as she did that they had separate lives, states apart, her job, his school, things they couldn't just pack up and leave behind, and yet, he also wanted it as much as she did. Their brush with death had left them both feeling bold, but they were still themselves underneath—thoughtful, cautious. "So we're going to make this work?"

But she wasn't scared anymore, and that made her feel free as a bird. "Hey, we've got a lot longer than thirteen minutes to plan this." she reminded him, and he grinned. "We'll make it work."


End file.
